


Romance Languages

by Seascribe



Category: due South
Genre: Bilingual Character(s), Bondage, Episode Related, F/M, First Time, Italian, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Snark, Spanish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seascribe/pseuds/Seascribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I could take you out in a second."<br/>"I'd consider that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romance Languages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/gifts).



> I'm pretty sure this is all Scribe's fault (thanks for holding my hand while I whined about it, buddy). Luzula read over it and reassured me, and lots of people on DW/LJ/Tumblr were very patient with me while I cried about it. If you hover your mouse over the Spanish and Italian dialogue, a translation should pop up. Language corrections are totally welcome!

"Okay, so maybe I stretched the truth a little," Vecchio confesses, when she corners him outside the conference hall. "Hey, lemme make it up to you. I know a great little café a couple blocks north." He grins at her. 

"But my hotel is right next door," Anita says, and is gratified when his eyes widen and he swallows visibly. "You can make it up to me there." 

He almost trips over himself in his eagerness to follow her out.

*

He's good with his hands; he lets her hair down around her shoulders almost as soon as the door closes behind them, and then her blazer is gone and he's cupping her breasts through the silky material of her blouse, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples. It's almost enough to make her reconsider her plans for the evening. Almost. 

His handcuffs are in the pocket of his slacks; she saw him put them there when they took LaCroix away. When he pulls her down onto the bed with him, she climbs onto his lap, and he ducks his head to kiss her neck, running his tongue over the chain of her necklace where it crosses her collarbone. She shivers and grinds her hips down against him. 

"I know I told you that outfit looked great, Mexico," he says, and she's impressed by how even his voice sounds. "But anytime you want to start taking it off, I'm ready to help." He runs his fingertips up under the hem of her blouse and gives her that wide, insouciant grin. 

"I think I can handle it," she says, shifting back away from his touch and accidentally-on-purpose rocking her hips down against him again. This time, his breath catches, and she grins. She puts her hand on his chest and pushes him back, til he's sprawled against the pillows, watching her. She tries to take her time slipping out of her blouse, teasing. When she drops it to the floor, his hands come up off the bed, like he can't help it. She lets him tease at her nipples through the lace for a second, but letting him get away with a little bit makes him think he can try for more. He sits up, reaching around for the clasp of her bra, and she gives him a sardonic look. 

" _Presta atención,_ " she says. "I told you, I'm doing this." She twists around to grab his wrists and push them up over his head. He makes a quiet, protesting noise, but doesn't offer any resistance. 

It's a little bit harder to get her suit pants off gracefully, but he doesn't laugh, just watches her with a wide-eyed expression of desperation. It's a good look for him. When she settles back on top of him in only her lingerie and stockings, he forgets himself, just like she expected he would, and puts his hands on her thighs. 

Anita raises her eyebrows at him, and then has to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at the chagrined expression that flickers across his face. She grabs his wrists and presses them firmly into the mattress above his head.

"Do you need me to write it down for you, Vecchio?" She leans down to kiss him, sliding her thigh in between his to distract him as she snakes the cuffs out of his pocket. "Keep your hands to yourself til I say." She pushes a little harder with her thigh, and he whines in the back of his throat. 

" _Repitelo para mí,_ " she says, twining the handcuffs around the headboard. 

It clicks a little, surely he must notice, but he doesn't look up. He licks his lips and murmurs, " _Non posso toccare senza permesso_." 

" _Bien hecho,_ " Anita says. He shudders under her, and she kisses him as she slides the cuffs around his wrists, locking them with a decisive click. And that, Vecchio notices. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demands. Anita smirks at him and climbs off the bed to retrieve his tie, wrapping it around his wrists in between his skin and the metal of the handcuffs. His long fingers flex, like a supplicant's.

"You're a detective, I think you can figure it out." She slides back onto his lap to kiss him again, biting his lower lip. He groans quietly. "You want me to stop?" 

" _Che cazzo_ , no!" 

Anita rewards him for that answer with another roll of her hips against his as she leans down over him. The cross on the chain around her neck falls forward, and he watches it swing back and forth, his eyes huge and dark like he's hypnotised by the movement of it. 

"Are you still with me?" she asks, raising her eyebrows. Vecchio's eyes snap to her face and his body goes tense under her again. 

"Not like I've got much choice," he says.

"Not really," Anita agrees. She rubs her cheek against his, breathing in the scent of his aftershave, something nice, citrusy. He turns his head to kiss her, and Anita makes an approving noise against his mouth. His breath catches, and he lifts his chin, just a little, showing her his throat. 

" _Mierda!_ " Anita says, and drops her head down to scrape her teeth over the tendon in his neck. He swallows hard--she feels it, under her mouth--and Anita hums against his skin. She licks the hollow at the base of his throat and he swears, too fast and jumbled up for her to understand.

He sucks in a deep, shaky breath. "Are you trying to kill me?" She can see his pulse fluttering in his neck, fast, like hers. 

"No," Anita says. "I'm getting back at you for, what was it? Stretching the truth." She lifts her head to smile at him, and he groans despairingly. 

"Oh my god. Look, I'm sorry, okay?" 

"How sorry?" 

He squints at her. "How sorry do I need to be?" 

"A lot sorrier than that, Vecchio." She reaches down to give his hard-on an encouraging squeeze through the soft wool of his slacks, and his hips jerk off the bed.

" _Cazzo!_ Anita, please, I'm-- _mi dispiace,_ okay, just--" 

" _Mucho mejor,_ " Anita says, and unbuckles his belt. She can feel him shaking with the effort of keeping still and then the flex and strain of his muscles as he lifts up so she can strip him. His eyes are locked on her, and even though he's all but squirming with desperation, there's still something warm and almost adoring in the way he's looking at her, behind the frustration and need.

" _Toccami, per piacere_ ," he says, low and hoarse, and it seems like his voice resonates all through her, like the vibrations of a plucked guitar string, echoing the pulse of arousal throbbing low in her belly. 

Anita feels hot all over, so turned on that she aches, and she presses the heel of her palm between her legs, rubbing against the lace of her underwear. It makes her gasp and shudder, and Vecchio whimpers. 

" _Vieni qui,_ " he begs. "Anita, do anything you want, okay, _qualsiasi cosa_ , but please, I need--" 

" _Cualquier cosa_?" Anita asks. Maybe her voice shakes a little, but Vecchio's not in any state to notice. 

"Yeah," he breathes, and Anita believes him. _Anything._ She could do whatever she liked right now, and he would let her, would even beg her for it. She regrets that she hadn't planned for anything beyond this, that they don't have more time. But at least they do have tonight, right here, and she's going to make the most of it. 

"Okay," Anita says. She traces along the line of hair down from his navel to where his cock is leaking against his stomach and wraps her fingers around him, jacking him slowly, one, twice, before letting go to wriggle out of her lingerie. 

Vecchio groans, "No, please," and Anita pats his hip. 

"Soon," she promises. She crawls up the bed and spreads her knees on either side of his shoulders, holding onto the headboard to keep her balance. He lifts his head without hesitation, but the first touch of his tongue is tentative, stroking over her clit so lightly that it almost tickles.

"Harder," Anita breathes, and cups her hand around the back of his neck, holding him steady. He flicks the tip of his tongue over her clit and then circles around it lazily. Anita's entire body goes rigid with need, and her fingers tighten on the back of his neck, making him gasp. But he keeps teasing her, working her clit in long, slow strokes that send pleasure rippling outwards through her whole body, but aren't enough to get her anywhere. She curses at him, her voice too breathless and ragged to give it much weight. He answers by letting her feel the faintest hint of his teeth. 

" _Carajo!_ Vecchio, _lo juro por Dios_ \--" 

He makes a smug noise, but instead of continuing to tease her like she's expecting, he gives in, speeding up and giving her just the right amount of pressure. She curses again, but in appreciation this time, and he hums in response, sounding content. When she comes, gasping out his name, it almost takes her by surprise, and she has to let go of him to cling to the headboard with both hands to keep herself upright. 

He kisses the inside of her thigh and lets his head fall back against the pillow, grinning up at her. She smiles back helplessly, and rolls her eyes. 

"You think you're god's gift to women, huh?" she asks, sliding down and propping herself on her elbow above him so she can kiss him. His mouth is slick and she can taste herself on his tongue. 

"Hey, you said it, not me," he gasps in between greedy, frantic kisses. 

"You should stop talking before you get yourself into trouble again," she advises and bites his bottom lip. Vecchio grunts, his hips coming up off the bed. Anita takes pity on him and shifts so that she can wrap her hand around him, sweeping her thumb through the precome beading at the head of his cock. 

"Yes, oh my god, please," Vecchio babbles, rocking up into her grip. "Anita, _è perfetto--_ " 

Anita feels a surprisingly strong rush of affection for him, swelling up warm and sweet inside her ribcage. She leans down to kiss him again. 

" _Quieres que te coja?_ " she murmurs, and he looks up at her wild-eyed and hopeful, still moving desperately under her hand. It seems like a clear enough answer to Anita. She has condoms in her purse, on the dresser, just far enough away that she'll have to stop touching him and stand up. 

Vecchio makes a little frantic, despairing noise as soon as she begins to lift herself off him. 

"No, what did I do, _non smetti_ \--" 

Anita pats his hip, standing up. " _Cálmate,_ you waited this long, you'll make it." 

She fishes the packet of condoms out of her purse, and Vecchio goes limp with relief when she climbs back onto the bed. 

"I thought you were gonna leave me here or something," he mumbles. 

"After I asked if you wanted me to fuck you?" Anita says, ripping open the condom wrapper. 

Vecchio swallows hard. "I didn't know that was what you said!" he grits. 

And he hadn't asked. _Christo,_ that was somehow even hotter than his begging for her to do anything and meaning it, some level of trust that she would never have expected, not like this. She regrets, again, that this is the only time they have. 

"Tell me how you say it in Italian," she says. 

" _Vuoi che s-scopare ti,_ " Vecchio gasps. Anita nods encouragingly. " _Scopami,_ fuck, Anita, _per piacere_ \--" 

He strains up towards her and Anita smiles and rubs against him. "Okay." 

When she rolls the condom down over him, he screws his eyes shut, pressing his head back into the pillow, like it's taking everything he has in him to keep it together. Anita sinks down onto him as slowly as she can, until her thighs are trembling with the effort. Vecchio lets out a long, noisy sigh when she's finally pressed flush against him, and Anita flexes around his cock. The sigh turns into a moan, and she feels his whole body go tight. He's holding his breath, as though that will help him to stay still for her. 

" _Respira_ ," she murmurs, and he sucks in an unsteady breath. She slides a little up and down, savouring the feeling of being filled, the head of his cock brushing up against her sweet spot. 

"Okay," she says. " _Adelante,_ you can move."

" _Infine,_ " Vecchio groans, somehow still managing to make it sound like a complaint. Anita swats him lightly on the shoulder and is ready when he thrusts up into her, moving with him and matching the frantic rhythm he falls into. 

"Is this--do you need--" He bites his lip, struggling to get the words out. 

" _Es perfecto,_ " Anita says, and leans down to kiss him. 

He's getting close, panting out ragged fragments of English and Italian against her mouth, and Anita slides a hand down to rub against her clit, pushing herself towards orgasm with him. He comes with a shout, going perfectly still, and Anita grinds hard against him, her second orgasm washing over her as the last pulses of his fade. He winces a little, his breath catching in his throat. 

Anita collapses down onto his chest, tucking her head under his chin. Vecchio rubs his cheek against her hair, his chest rising and falling with a heavy, contented sigh. 

" _Sei bellissima,_ " he murmurs. 

" _Gracias,_ " Anita murmurs back. She doesn't mean it just in response to the compliment. Vecchio gets that; when she lifts her head to kiss him, he's looking at her with a sweet, faintly regretful expression. She pulls away to get rid of the condom and retrieve the keys to the handcuffs. 

"I told you I could take you," she says archly. 

Vecchio grins at her. "I never doubted it." 

He rolls his shoulders, stretching, and then wraps his arms around her, running his hands down her back, over her ribs, around the curves of her hips and ass. 

"You can stay, if you want," Anita blurts. "Spend the night." 

Vecchio smiles, almost shyly, and kisses her temple. "Yeah? I'd like that." He wriggles around a little, getting more comfortable on the pillows, and pulls her tighter against his chest. "What time is your flight tomorrow?" 

"I think I'll push it back a few days," Anita says, watching his face. "I just saved the lives of three North American trade representatives, I deserve a vacation." 

"Hey, you had plenty of help," Vecchio protests, but he's smiling. "You got any special plans for this vacation?" 

Anita smirks. "I'm sure I'll think of something," she says, and kisses him.


End file.
